


Sabezra Ficlets

by Loth-Cat (Starbird)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Baby Fic, Big Fat Kiss, F/M, Father's Day fic, Hurt/Comfort, Lothal, PTSD, Pining, Post-Finale, Pregnancy, Sexual innuendos, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension, extreme fluff, friendzoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbird/pseuds/Loth-Cat
Summary: A collection of (mostly) unconnected shippy ficlets.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 79
Kudos: 149





	1. Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drabbles of Sabine Wren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714833) by [Ciryc_Tal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciryc_Tal/pseuds/Ciryc_Tal), [foxsykitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxsykitsune/pseuds/foxsykitsune). 



> Inspired by the amazing "Drabbles of Sabine Wren" by Ciryc_Tal and foxsykitsune. This collection is so, so good, striking an amazing, absolutely perfect balance between friendship, humor, angst, and USTy spice. It was really inspirational to me. Thank you for this work!! ❤
> 
> Also, the ficlets exist in separate ‘verses, except where the titles are the same.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine has an idea for how to stay warm when Hera is forced to shut down all the systems on the _Ghost_ to conserve fuel. 
> 
> “You’re my best friend,” she said. “Don’t make this weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love snow. I don’t like cold. F this winter. I think this fic was inspired by the purrgil episode (#purrgilpower!). Also, this blasted weather. #whydoiliveinthenorthibelongonabeach
> 
> Set in season 4.

Hera shook her head as she studied the fuel readout. “There’s no way we’ll make it to a sympathetic planet with all the systems turned on. Shutting off the heat.”

The crew groaned behind her in the cockpit.

“Hey, it’s either this, or we wait for someone to come along with fuel. Anyone willing to bet on that?”

Chopper made a remark.

“Chop says he’ll calculate the odds for us.”

“That is _not_ what he said,” Ezra replied. “He said – ”

“Not all of Chopper’s comments need to be translated for the class,” Hera cut in. “Language, Chop.”

“Well, I’m going back to my cabin, then,” Zeb said as he stood.

“Don’t you dare steal my blankets,” Ezra threatened.

“Kid, why do you think I’m leaving right _now_?”

“Zeb!” He shot up from his seat and gave chase, but the Lasat was already halfway to their cabin, and laughing.

Sabine shook her head. “I miss my gear from home.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be used to the cold?” Kanan said.

“Used to it, but don’t like it. I hate snow, for at least six reasons.”

“Well, it’s not going to get warm here anytime soon,” Hera said as she flipped through star charts. “We’ve got at least seven hours. Everyone might as well get some sleep.”

Sabine left the cockpit without another word. She was always pretty good about not complaining and taking things in stride. Hera smiled after her, then turned to Kanan and crossed her arms as she leaned back in her seat.

“So,” she said.

Kanan mimicked her posture, a smile growing on his face as well. “So.”

“Once again we find ourselves bereft of heat for a while.”

“I can think of at least six ways to stay warm.”

“I’ll bet you can.” Hera leaned in, and her smile widened. “Start talking.”

\---

Zeb had, indeed, stolen all the covers and blankets, leaving Ezra’s bunk cold with only a fitted sheet and pillowcase. The Lasat gloated from his blanket nest on his own bunk.

“Nice and warm,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Ezra said as he scowled at his roommate. “You’ve got a fur coat. Why aren’t you sharing?”

“You’ve got magic powers. Why don’t you use them?”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “They’re not _magic powers_.”

“Then what are they? Voodoo?”

Ezra was not in the mood to be baited, even though Zeb continued.

“If I make a doll of Thrawn, I’ll let you meditate over it and stick pins in it.”

“You’re an ass, Zeb.”

Turning his back on his greedy roommate and vowing to get him back, Ezra left the cabin and headed to Sabine’s. He knocked on the door, and she opened it after a couple moments.

“Zeb’s being mean,” Ezra explained. “He won’t share.”

“Aww, did he take your blocks?” she replied.

“He took my blankets.”

Sabine turned into her cabin, and Ezra followed. “Isn’t there something with the Force you can do?” she asked. “Make yourself warmer?”

“What is it you people think the Force is?” Ezra replied in frustration. “It’s not like I can _manipulate bodily functions_.”

Sabine held her hand up. “I definitely do not need to know about you _manipulating bodily functions_.”

Again, Ezra rolled his eyes. “Just give me a blanket, and I’ll get out of here.”

“I’ve never been that good at sharing.”

“Come on, Sabine…”

“All right, all right… You don’t need to whine about it.” She bent over her bunk to gather up the blanket on top, then paused for a moment. Ezra felt a ripple through the Force from her, and he frowned, wondering what exactly she was thinking. Straightening, she said, “Actually…there are other ways to stay warm, you know.”

She wasn’t…she couldn’t be… Ezra swallowed. “Vigorous exercise?”

Sabine faced him again, her arms crossed. “We might as well do it. We’re both cold. What’s the harm?”

Ezra’s eyes went wide. “Do _it_ …?”

Sabine made a face like she was disgusted. “Not _it_ , you _di’kut_. Please. I meant share body heat.”

“Look, I was just clarifying…”

Sabine nodded slowly. “Oh, I’m sure you were. Strip. And be mature,” she added. “I come from a cold planet. I know how to keep warm. Tristan and I always shared a bed when we were younger.”

“Don’t really want to think about your brother right now.” Although that might help, if he had to be honest. The prospect of getting into Sabine’s bed – something Ezra had thought about time and time again, year after year – was exhilarating, and he forced himself to breathe normally as he shucked off his jacket and reached for the bottom of his shirt. Sabine was doing the same, coolly removing her armor and undressing in front of him. His heart beat faster and faster.

Ezra stopped after boots and socks, but Sabine was down to her undergarments. He swallowed again and focused on his breathing, watching as she pulled a small pair of workout shorts on.

“Ezra,” she said patiently, “I can feel you staring. Eyes on your own business, soldier.”

“I wasn’t staring,” he replied quickly, cheeks burning. He stood from the ground, nudged his pile of clothes and boots into the corner, and went to join her by the bunk. But her eyes dropped down, surveying his still-clothed lower half. “Can’t I keep my pants on?” he asked, his throat a little too tight. Sabine looked up and quirked a brow.

“Why, afraid I’ll be disappointed?”

 _“No,”_ he retorted crossly. “That’s not…”

Sabine put her hands on her hips and sighed, like he was just so much effort. “Pants too,” she said. “And gloves. That’s how you share body heat. Skin to skin. Come on. I won’t look.” Before she turned around, he caught her rolling her eyes at him again, before she muttered, “Psht, it’s like you think I’ve never seen a guy’s body before.”

“Wait, _have_ you – ?”

“Just strip.”

He did, and by the time he was finished, she was already in the bunk. He joined her, moving close. When their skin touched, hers was burning hot, and he fought to hold in a gasp. Sabine turned toward him and, well, basically cuddled up into him, her eyes closed.

“You’re my best friend,” she said. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I won't make it weird,” Ezra hurried to assure her. “Totally un-weird.”

Right, like there was any way this was _not_ going to be weird, with how long Ezra had pined after her. Yes, they were best friends, but he still had feelings for her. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he probably always would, and that nothing would ever happen between them, and that being her best friend was enough. But now that he felt her skin against his, and the weight of her body on him…that desire for _more_ came back again full force. His mind unhelpfully painted all sorts of pictures of them together, ones he’d for the most part gotten over and shoved to the back of his mind in the last year or two. But now as he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, he could see nothing but the two of them in her bunk, her body below his…

“So…” Ezra said. “I take it you had some boyfriends at the academy?”

Sabine snorted. “Bet you’d like to know.”

This was starting to get very uncomfortable. Ezra turned onto his side, away from her, and stared at the door, trying to will his mind and body into submission. Did she know? Did she have _any idea_ what she was doing to him, how intensely she was causing him to react? As excited as he’d been about the prospect of sharing a bed with her and touching her skin for the first time, now he was a little _too_ excited, and a _lot_ uncomfortable. Sabine’s breaths were evening out and slowing, and he hoped she would fall asleep soon so he could go back to his own bunk. Even if he didn’t have any blankets, it would be better, at any rate, to be cold and alone there than to be here, with her, tense and unable to stop thinking, his heart beating too hard and too fast. But even as he tried to move away, she pushed up against him, lining her body up with his from behind, her knees hooking into his and her chest against his back so that he could feel all of her pressed against him, and this was…this was _torture_.

“This reminds me of that time with the purrgil,” Sabine said.

Ezra pulled his mind away from where it desperately wanted to be and tried to come up with a cogent response. “Yeah. Good thing we got the fuel.”

“I wonder if we’ll ever see them again.”

“Maybe.”

It was quiet again for a few minutes, and Ezra started to drift into sleep, just ever so slightly, finally relaxing.

“I can’t fall asleep,” Sabine said into the silence, jarring him fully awake again.

“Maybe because it’s colder than an ice planet in here,” he said.

“Maybe our next mission will be someplace warm.”

She wasn’t usually one for small talk or talking about nothing, so Ezra switched sides to face her, wondering what was keeping her awake. She opened her eyes and blinked at him.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did I wake you?”

Ezra shook his head, captivated by her gaze and how close it was to his. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m probably keeping you awake.”

Sabine smiled and reached out to his face. “Your lips are turning blue.”

Then she touched his mouth with her fingers, gently, and when he involuntarily sucked a quiet breath of air into his lungs at her touch, he knew she had to have heard it.

“So you, um,” he fumbled, mind casting about furiously for a topic to latch onto. _Psht, it’s like you think I’ve never seen a guy’s body before._ “So you dated a lot at the academy?”

Not his best move. (Though, to be fair, not his worst, either.)

“Did you date a lot on the streets of Lothal?” Sabine returned.

Ezra didn’t reply – he didn’t know whether he was supposed to joke back or say something serious about those years when he was alone, so the remark hung in the air between them until Sabine poked his bare side. His body flinched away from hers as if a live wire had touched it.

“Teasing,” she said.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ezra said. “I was just curious.”

“You’re curious about a lot. Isn’t there some saying about a loth-cat and curiosity?”

“There is.”

Sabine yawned, then pulled the blanket up tighter around her shoulders. “We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Ezra closed his eyes and shifted the covers, accidentally brushing his hand by her stomach as he did so. She jerked back away from him. “What? What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

“Nothing,” Sabine said. “Your hands are just cold. Surprised me.”

“Well, warm them up, then,” he replied crossly, curling up and sticking his hands between his knees.

“Take them out from wherever you’re hiding them, and I will.”

Ezra pulled his hands out from beneath the covers and held them up between their faces. “Here they are.”

Sabine took his hands in her own, wrapping hers around his. “Force, Ezra, they’re like ice!” She started chafing them, quickly working some heat in. Her hands were going too fast for him to really enjoy the sensation of her touching him, but then she slowed down and interlaced their fingers. Putting their hands back below the covers, she said, “There you go. Much warmer now.”

“Thanks. Any parts of you I can warm up?”

That came out the exact opposite of what he intended, but before he could even wince, Sabine snorted at him. But she had a smile on her face, and she moved closer. Their clasped hands were pressed between their chests, and he had to admit, he did feel a lot warmer. The nervous part of him urged him to say something, but words wouldn’t come. Ezra found himself, instead, speechless.

It was an odd situation – not because of the obvious – but because it was intimate in a way that wasn’t necessarily sexual. He felt that way, yes, and he was definitely thinking about it, but beyond that, it was a connection to Sabine that was more on an emotional level, too, that she was letting him in a little more, trusting him, deepening things between them. Her head began to nod further down on the pillow, and her face was just…so… _close_. Ezra could so easily imagine taking that final step and kissing her, and he wondered if he should.

But…no. Sabine had invited him into her room – literally into her _bed_ – because of practicality and because she trusted him. She trusted him not to do anything, not to pull any moves, not to try to get or take something from her.

She had invited him as a friend.

A quiet, disappointed sigh escaped Ezra, and he tightened his fingers around hers. It did hurt, and his heart was pulled in different directions. He felt guilty for wanting to enjoy the moment, enjoy her touch and the feel of her, but at the same time, he was absorbing every single second that he could to store in his mind for later – for forever, really.

In her sleep, Sabine shifted even closer to him, curling up and pressing herself all the way against him. One of her hands left his, and she gently laid it against his chest. He bit his lip as he looked down at her, fighting his feelings back as hard as he could.

“You’re warm,” she murmured. “Thanks for being my friend.”

The last bit was so quiet, so mumbled, that Ezra barely caught it. But catch it he did, and the words made him wince. They physically hurt. They probably always would.

“Sure,” he replied, throat dry. “Always.”

“G’night, Ez.”

 _Ez._ No one had called him that, not since his parents. Sabine wasn’t the nickname type, and for her to do something so soft… Well, she must really be tired. Her forehead was now touching his, and they had never been closer. Her warm breaths softly fanned his face, and he wanted to kiss her so badly. Reaching up with his free hand, Ezra lightly touched her cheekbone, her temple, her hair, mapping her face with his fingertips. She’d never know, and in the morning, he’d have to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t feel the way he did.

 _Just another average day, really,_ he thought as he closed his eyes. Sabine again shifted in her sleep, moving ever closer to him, and on instinct, not even thinking about it, Ezra wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Her hair felt so soft beneath his cheek.

“Goodnight, Sabine,” he whispered. “May you rest in the warmth of your dreams.” She grunted – or perhaps growled – unenthusiastically back at him, probably having no idea that he’d bid her goodnight with a traditional Lothalian phrase, and he smiled, unsure whether she was asleep or awake. Then he closed his eyes, and soon, peaceful sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I'm rereading this and making some tweaks on New Year's, I had some thoughts. (That's a garbage sentence, but I likes it.) First, I am very fond of this piece! I think it's one of my best fic works, across all fandoms. Second, I did not mean for it to end on such a bummer note. For anyone who's been in an unrequited love situation, it is a bummer -- well, except for that in our shippy view, it isn't exactly unrequited. Ezra just thinks it is. I tried to write the piece so that Sabine's feelings came through, but they were just very subtle (she can't fall asleep and doesn't know why and therefore keeps talking, she keeps moving closer, SHE LITERALLY INVITED HIM INTO HER BED WITH HIS CLOTHES OFF, etc..................yeah that's not exactly subtle butyouknkowwhatimean). I'd sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrta like to write a follow-up...? Thing is, I really only meant for these pieces to be real, actual, legit oneshots, as in, ONE PIECE, but I have A Real Problem keeping pieces short 'n sweet. I'm a novelist by nature, so, oneshots are kinda a foreign concept to me (as you can see by this long-ass end note). Also, the pining and sad ending of this just sort of...pain me (especially with poor Ezra being my favorite character and my bae and all). So...idk. Mebbe. I have an idea for how a second piece would start.
> 
> Third, I have two additional pieces for this series. One is finished already. It's called "Triggered," and it's a heavier piece that deals with Ezra's PTSD and takes place post-series when he and Sabine are back on Lothal. The other one is called "Happy Birthday, Ezra Bridger" and is about Sabine tricking him into a birthday party for him (there will be A Kiss in it). I have five other ideas, two of which I may actually write, a third Idk about because it's not romantic, and the other two I probably won't write, but we'll see.
> 
> Anyway, that's enough from me. Hope you enjoyed the piece, and I'd love a comment!! :D


	2. Body Heat, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra wakes up due to a disastrous bet with Zeb the night before, and now he can’t get back to sleep.
> 
> Neither can Sabine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I added to it!! Been thinking about this since early January.

The galaxy was an unfair place. It was a truth Ezra had known since he was little. But he was grown now, and so he didn’t think about it much. It didn’t do him any good, and it was juvenile thinking besides. However, when his eyes opened in the middle of the night, and he remembered he was buried deep under the covers in Sabine’s bunk because Hera had turned the heat off to conserve fuel, and the reason he was awake was because Zeb had challenged him to a bet that he couldn’t drink a giant glass of carbonated fruit juice faster than the Lasat could, well, he cursed the unfairness of the universe once again.

Ezra lost the bet. Now he was about to lose the one and only chance he’d ever gotten to share a bed with Sabine Wren, because nature had taken its course, and the univere was cruel.

Ezra put his hand over his face and growled quietly to himself. There was absolutely no way he could ignore this. The problem, of course, was that now that he was awake, should he go back to his own bunk? Or would Sabine _want_ him to crawl back in with her?

He decided he would think about it on the walk to and from the ’fresher.

By the time he got back to her room, though, he hadn’t figured it out, and he hovered awkwardly in her doorway, watching her sleep. It was probably okay…? Right...?

Making up his mind, Ezra tentatively crossed the room back toward the bunk. When he sank down onto the mattress, even though he’d tried his best to be quiet, Sabine stirred with a little noise in the back of her throat that he could almost confuse with a moan…

“You shouldn’t have made that bet with Zeb,” she mumbled groggily as Ezra pulled the covers over himself. He paused for a moment, feeling himself redden. Her eyes weren’t open, though, and she didn’t sound like she was going to kick him out… “Hurry it up. You’re letting all the warm air out.”

“Sorry.” Ezra settled down into the bed, relishing the way the covers and heavy blankets chased away the chill of the ship. A violent shiver raced over him, and he blew out a breath. “That fuel can’t come soon enough.”

Sabine made a short noncommittal noise. When he looked at her again, she had her fists tucked under her chin, her face completely relaxed.

Stars, she looked cute. And he wanted to _touch_ her.

Ezra cleared his throat self-consciously and looked away from her, tapping his fingers on the covers. He was wide awake again.

“Shh,” she hissed sharply. “I was having a good dream.”

“What was it about?” he asked.

“The beach. Tropical water. Lots of blue.”

Thinking of Sabine in a swimsuit was not going to help him get to sleep any faster. Ezra swallowed, his throat dry. “Sounds nice.”

“It was. I’m cold. Warm me up.”

He desperately wished it were an invitation rather than an order. He knew better than to disobey, though. Readjusting onto his side, he reached out to her…and hesitated.

What exactly did she _mean_? Was he allowed to touch her like this? Just reach out and pull her close? Or was she the one setting the rules and limits with all of this? He wasn’t sure.

Wetting his lips, his chest tightening around his racing heart, he said, “Can I touch you again, then? Is that okay?”

“That’s the whole point of this, Ezra.”

She still had her eyes closed, which he was grateful for, because he wasn’t sure he could make eye contact with her right now. Gathering his courage, he put his arms around her and pulled her into him, closing his eyes, too, as their foreheads gently touched.

“G’night,” he murmured. “Again.”

“Don’t get up again, or I’ll hurt you,” she replied. Ezra smiled, but then it dropped clean off his face and his eyes widened when she pushed her leg between his. He knew why – seeking extra warmth – but he wished she wouldn’t, for…reasons.

“Sabine, um – ”

“Shhhh, I’m trying to sleep.”

Ezra closed his mouth and grit his teeth together. He was _not_ going to survive this night, of that he was sure at this point. All the things he’d been through in his life, and this was the thing that was going to do him in. Closing his eyes, _not_ focusing on the feel of her body against his (especially her knee), _not_ focusing on the scent of her, he thought of battles and injuries and reviewed lightsaber forms in his head.

It. Didn’t. _Work._

Without meaning to, Ezra released a moan of misery, and Sabine startled. Her eyes opened as humiliation poured through him.

“What is your problem?” she demanded. “You sound like an animal dying.”

And he was, really. He was dying inside, being this close to her, being in her bed, her skin melted against his and his arms clutching her tight. He wished this were more natural, that it was easy for him and that they did this all the time.

But they didn’t, and they wouldn’t, and he needed to go.

Ezra cleared his throat, stalling and gathering courage. “I should go,” he said. He meant it to come out confident, but instead, he spoke barely above a whisper. Sabine blinked at him.

“Go?” she repeated. “Why? I’m warm.”

Again, Ezra swallowed as he stared into her eyes, and his heart thundered, and he couldn’t believe it but sweat had actually gathered on his forehead.

“Um,” he said, because nothing else came to mind.

“Go to sleep, Ezra.” Sabine closed her eyes and shifted a little, getting comfortable on the pillow again. With no other choice, Ezra blew out a breath and did the same. His forehead touched hers again, and he heard and felt her soft breaths. In, then out. In, out. After a moment, he felt comfortable again, and something in the back of his mind, where her Force sense lived, zinged. His breath caught at the burn of her signature, and he sensed her move incrementally closer to him. He responded without thinking, doing the same, and he held his breath, heart pounding so hard it hurt –

And then their lips connected, and he was kissing her.

He was _kissing_ her.

Ezra couldn’t believe it. The feeling burst through his entire body, lighting up every nerve as her presence brightened, and boy, he wished she’d move her leg. She only broke from him for a second before curling her hand around his head and pulling him toward her to kiss her again. It quickly increased in intensity, far faster than he would have guessed. Gaining confidence, Ezra rolled her onto her back and took a breath before pressing his lips to hers once more, not wanting to stop until he couldn’t breathe. He’d imagined this quite a bit, played through dozens of different scenarios, daydreamed about it for years. But nothing, _nothing_ , compared to the real thing, to actually touching her lips, feeling her tongue sliding along his, her strong body pressed below his. His body shook, trembling at her touch and with the desire that had burned bright and hot within him for so, so long. It was past oh-three-hundred in the morning, but Sabine seemed to be as awake as he, her hand rubbing up his arm, setting off sparks there, too.

Finally, she turned him so that he was on the opposite side as before, his back to the wall, and she smiled. “You weigh more than I expected,” she said.

“Expected?” he echoed, shocked. “You’ve _thought_ about this?”

Sabine just smiled again and tucked herself into his chest. “Goodnight, Ezra.”

“G’night,” Ezra replied, his own smile spreading across his face. And then he laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, “I’m _definitely_ warm now.”


	3. Triggered: Prequel: Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months after they got together, Ezra and Sabine move into their first home on Lothal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 24, 2021: I actually wrote “Triggered, Pts. 1 & 2” before I wrote this oneshot, and there’s more backstory in Pt. 1 than here. Things might be a bit repetitive. If you haven't read those two parts, Pt. 1 is pretty melancholy; Pt. 2 is sweet. This prequel is melancholy as well. There's nothing actually triggering in it; it just goes in the 'verse.

The house is tiny, more of a bungalow. It’s perfectly square with a small kitchen to one side and a bedroom at the back. There’s a single refresher.

It’s perfect.

Sabine had nine boxes. Ezra was shocked, actually. He didn’t think she’d have so much. He, on the other hand, had one single, standard-size box.

The house was a gift from Ryder Azadi, something he’d purchased for them no matter how hard they’d protested and said no. It was a great price, he’d said, not to be worried about. Lots of people had chipped in to pay for it, and what was more, it was fully furnished. It turned out it had belonged to an old lady who had passed away and left it to the city. She had wanted it to go to a good home, and Ryder had jumped at the opportunity. After he’d talked to her neighbors and friends, he’d known Ezra and Sabine were the right people for it.

“She’d want you to have it,” he’d said. “It would have made her so happy.”

Ezra didn’t usually like to speak for the dead, but running his hands along the walls and getting a sense of the woman, he knew Ryder was right.

“You’re not doing anyone any good standing there,” Sabine grunts as she brings in another box. Ezra frowns.

“And you’ve got way too much stuff,” he returns. “I brought one box and a duffel.”

“Your ego takes up the rest of it. I’ve got all my art supplies, my makeup, my weapons, my clothes, and various junk from my childhood.”

“You never struck me as the sentimental type.”

“I’m sentimental about my weapons.”

Ezra smiles, even though he’s not sure if she’s joking or not.

They just had dinner with Hera and Zeb earlier. Hera had really wanted to see the new place and, most of all, stock them up with things they’d need (though Ezra wasn’t entirely sure where the credits were flowing from). It ended up being a good thing, because now they have a full pantry and cooler and sundries like towels, sheets, detergent, and dishes – stuff he never would have thought of. Sabine might have, but he would’ve been fine just sleeping on the bare bed, even if it did belong to an old lady.

Sabine comes back to the doorway after setting the box down, and Ezra catches her around the waist and spins her. She laughs, and he smiles again and presses her gently against the frame.

“So,” he says quietly.

“So,” she replies, smiling back and resting her hands on his shoulders. The playfulness in her eyes tells him she knows what’s on his mind.

“Lothal tradition – ”

Those eyes immediately roll. “It’s _not_ Lothal tradition to do what you’re thinking in a new house.”

Sabine moves away, and Ezra laughs. “Besides,” she says, “we need to get unpacked.”

“It’ll take me five minutes. I don’t have much.”

And he doesn’t. It’s weird hanging his one jacket and one other pair of pants up in the closet, putting away his shirts, underwear, and socks in the dresser. Right now he’s wearing relatively new clothes, a pair of casual pants in a light fabric that feels weird and foreign and untrustworthy (he’s used to thick fabric that protects him in battle), a thin shirt in a boring color, and a vest that doesn’t have any pockets for him to put anything. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t _need_ to put anything in any pockets, doesn’t _need_ to carry anything with him except identification, credits, and insurance. All things _normal_ people carry with them. Not weapons and explosives and false ID and lockpicks and ancient laser swords only a handful of people in the entire galaxy can actually use. His lightsaber can stay home. So can his blaster.

Lothal was at peace.

_Peace._

Just what he’d always wanted. What his _parents_ had always wanted. What his whole family had dreamed of and fought for. Died for.

What his adopted family had fought for, too.

What Kanan had fought and died for…

Rubbing the back of his neck, lost in thought, Ezra walks out of the bedroom to see Sabine sorting their new dishes into the cabinets in the kitchen. He allows a smile to come to his face as he crosses his arms and ankles and sags against the doorway. This is a weird future, and it’s not the one he thought he’d have. But then, he wasn’t exactly sure, a lot of times, that he’d even have a future at all. It’s been six months they’ve been together, and just a little longer than that since he came back from the Unknown Regions. They didn’t wait long to become involved. It all happened very quickly, in a total blur.

Sabine finishes her task, turns, and sees him staring. “What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Ezra says, and again rubs the back of his neck, thinking. “Um…” But there really is nothing to say. “Nothing.”

Sabine nods, and she doesn’t push it. She knows him better than to do that.

\---

Ezra doesn’t sleep well that night, despite the open windows and Lothal’s familiar night air in his lungs. Sabine never has trouble sleeping – she’s always on alert, even when deep asleep – but this peacefulness has Ezra on edge. He wakes a couple hours after they turn in, and when he sits up, he’s surprised to find a sheen of cold sweat coating his body. Letting out a quiet sigh, he leans over to grab his discarded pants from the floor, swings his legs out, and pulls them on. Then he leaves the bed and quietly pads over to the window to look out into the night. It’s clear, the moons shining brightly, and the night air feels good. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, arms posted straight on the windowsill, and his mind cards back through a kaleidoscope of early memories.

“Ezra?”

He looks over his shoulder. Sabine is sitting up in bed, looking worried. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m just… Couldn’t sleep.”

She turns the covers back and stands. She’s clad only in his undershirt _and nothing else_. Ezra’s fourteen-year-old self would have seized up and passed out at this vision if he’d known this was in his future. Sabine comes around the bed and toward him, and Ezra welcomes her into his arms. Leaning down, he gives her a kiss.

“You have my shirt on backwards,” he murmurs.

“Mm, wasn’t really paying attention to that earlier,” she replies. He chuckles and folds her into his embrace, relishing the feeling of her skin against his bare chest. “What’s bothering you?” she asks.

“This is just so…” He trails off. He can’t find the right word. “Unusual,” he decides.

“Peace?”

“Yeah. It makes me sort of uncomfortable.”

She nods against his chest. “I get that.”

“I mean, it’s what I’ve wanted, but…I don’t trust it.”

“Mmhm. Same.” Then, slowly, Sabine pulls away from him, and he reluctantly lets her put just that little bit of distance between them. She’s still holding him, but she wants to catch his eye. In that moment, a series of images from their future flashes through his mind, but they’re too fast to truly see and sort out. Sabine’s eyes narrow, just briefly. “What _do_ you want?” She’s curious.

Ezra reaches up to run his fingers back through her hair at her left temple. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Besides being with you.”

“You’ve already achieved that goal.”

He laughs without meaning to; it’s such a blunt, unromantic response to his very romantic comment. “I know. I just meant… Whatever. You know what I meant.”

Sabine smiles a little. She did know what he meant.

“I want to get used to a calm life,” Ezra says. “I don’t expect the New Republic will leave us alone ever.” She doesn’t reply; she knows they won’t. “Yeah, I guess I just want peace. And happiness.”

Sabine’s hand trails down his arm to clasp his hand, fingers interlacing with his. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s _okay_ to want that, to let yourself want that. I want that, too. We just need to give ourselves time.”

Ezra sighs, kisses her on top of her head, and holds her tight with his other arm. She’s right, of course (she usually is). It’s going to take time to get used to this, but he thinks it’s something he would like to get used to.

After another moment, Sabine nudges him. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get back to bed.”

They return to their bed, curling close to one another. It’s nice to sleep in a real bed, not a ship’s berth or an uncomfortable cot or bunk.

It’s nice to share a bed with someone else.

Someone he loves.

He hasn’t said the words yet. Neither has she. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for; he suspects he’s afraid. If he says them, if he makes them real, the universe could hear and take her. It’ll take much more time for her, and much as he longs to hear those three words fall from her lips, he is willing to wait for them. To give her time and space. After all, he’s known how he’s felt much longer than she.

Slowing his breath, focusing on it like he used to all the time in meditation, Ezra closes his eyes, and soon, he eases off to sleep.


	4. Triggered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old Imperial building that is to be converted to a school triggers Ezra’s PTSD, and he has trouble coming down from it. (Sabine, of course, is there to help.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An exploration of PTSD after I myself was triggered by being in a building that had been converted for other uses (a freaking shopping area, of all things). This is a pretty heavy piece that was, ultimately, cathartic for me. It’s the heaviest piece I’ve written for this fandom thus far. This is my light, happy ship, so I try to keep things that way, but I needed to work some stuff out. Cuz some stuff really sucks, which is why I identify with the characters who go through a lot of trauma and sadness.
> 
> No real trigger warnings, honestly, just that this discusses what it’s like to be traumatized and then reminded of it.
> 
> I made up the mayor and the philanthropy.

_“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand...there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold.”_

~ _The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)_

* * *

Sometimes it’s a smell, a sound, a voice, a touch, something he thinks he sees out of the corner of his eye but really doesn’t, and that’s all it takes and his mind reverses in time to a particular moment, good or bad, and he’s back there again. A spice his mom used to cook with, a mechanical whine too similar to a TIE fighter, a branch snapping back across his left cheek. Anything to do with fire. His chest tightens, his pulse quickens, his breathing turns shallow. Immediately he falls back into the old pattern of searching for danger with all of his senses, reaching out through the Force as he looks and listens. Things are always okay in the end, but old habits die hard.

This time, it’s an abandoned Imperial complex outside Capital City on Lothal. The Empire itself fell two years ago, and the planet has been free for seven, but there is still an immense amount of work to be done. Sabine had cared for Ezra’s home the entire time he’d been away in the Unknown Regions with Thrawn, and she had made it a better place. When he’d come back, he’d been in awe of all she had done. Not that he’d been surprised, really. _I know I can always count on you._ He’d wanted to kiss her right there when he’d seen what she’d done, and when he saw the proud smile on her face, and how happy she was that _he_ was happy… But the time wasn’t right, so he hadn’t. _Later,_ he’d told himself. _There will be time later. After we talk._

They’re meeting with local government officials and philanthropists. It’s him, Sabine, Ryder Azadi, and, for a reason Ezra has yet to discern, Vizago. It’s warm and humid now, the sun pale above them, wind blowing through the grasses.

“As you can see, it hasn’t gotten much use,” Mayor Vaytra says, gesturing around the nearly pristine hallway. “Efforts being more focused on Capital City and all.”

“This would be worth much more as scrap,” Vizago comments bluntly, never one for finesse or tact. “I could get you a fair price.”

Vaytra narrows his eyes, as if he, too, is unsure why the Devaronian’s presence is needed. “We were thinking more like…a school.” He keys his datapad, and an image flashes up. “These are the concept drawings.”

Vizago rolls his own eyes and opens his hands. “You see treasure one way, I see it another.”

“What kind of school?” Ezra asks, both to end _that_ particular line of conversation and to take his mind off the tightness in his chest. Being here is doubly triggering: it brings back all his nasty memories of all the nasty garrisons and Imperial bases he’s been in (either against his will or voluntarily), and it reminds him of the education he never got. It makes him think about his sloppy, childish handwriting that combines upper- and lowercase letters (and occasionally a character from another alphabet) and takes up too much space on a page. It reminds him of trying to get through chapter books meant for nine-year-olds when he was fifteen. He can see the cover of the first book, one about a time-traveling puppy who met historical figures. Halfway into the first chapter, right as Muffin Roll was about to meet one of the very first Jedi, the _Ghost_ crew got pulled into a surprise run for their lives.

 _Muffin pawed at the blue rings of light. Could it really be? A time tunnel? His owner Jax had talked about them, but…they were_ real _?_

_“Ezra!” Hera snapped from the cockpit. “Need you on the nose gun!”_

_“I’m on it.” He shut off the reader and ran out of his cabin. Once seated in the gun, he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times, and blasted a TIE fighter to bits._

_A minute ago he’d been reading about a magical puppy dog. Now he was killing someone._

“Does it matter?” Vizago responds to Ezra’s question.

“Would you like to wait outside?” Sabine snaps, putting her fists on her hips and glaring at the big Devaronian. “Either contribute or leave.”

Vizago shakes his head and rolls his eyes again. Truly, Ezra has no idea what he’s doing here.

“We thought it would be a good home for at-risk youth,” the president of the leading nonprofit says in a gentle voice. She’s a tall, older woman with gray hair cropped close, and she puts her hand between Ezra’s shoulders and guides him forward. “Children not so unlike yourself, when you were young.”

“You could call it The Ezra Bridger School for Problem Children,” Vizago puts in.

Ezra wrinkles his nose. “Please don’t call it that.”

Vizago shrugs. “I was trying to contribute.”

“Mali, how far would the reach be for this school?” Ryder asks. The president starts reeling off statistics, but Ezra’s mind has wandered again. Her group is called For the Youth, and she is passionate about what she does. He is glad someone like her is here on Lothal, caring for these kids and looking after them.

“If this one is successful,” she finishes up, “we could establish chapters all over Lothal.” She turns a smile upon Ezra. She’s much taller than him. “We really would love to name it after you, Jedi Bridger.”

He waves his hands at her. “Please, really, don’t. I’m not…I’m not really one for big names and…” He looks around, thinking about his name on something like _this_. “I didn’t _do_ anything.”

Mali’s smile grows. “Well…”

“Maybe you could have people bid on a name, or something,” Ezra suggests, his mind working furiously trying to get her onto another track. _Anything_ to avoid _The Ezra Bridger School_. “Y’know, raise money for supplies, or, um, uniforms or food, or…something. Whoever bids the highest gets to name it.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. We’ve never done something like that. It’ll take a good year to get this converted to a school, recruit students, hire teachers and staff, et cetera, so we’ll have plenty of time to plan a fundraiser. Will you come?”

Well, now he had to. “Yes, of course,” he says, not that he wants to. It isn’t really his thing.

“Wonderful. I’ll keep everyone here apprised of the details.”

“Thank you. And thank you for this,” Ezra says as he gestures around to encompass the building itself and their little group inside it. “For doing all this. For caring so much.”

The group leaves the building, each going to their respective vehicles and then their own separate ways. Ezra folds his arms as he and Sabine draw up to Vizago’s landspeeder.

“I thought you hated children,” Ezra says. “I remember very, very clearly, that you said you hated children.”

Vizago shrugs again, palms upturned. “I do hate children. They’re terrible. But once a year I like to cleanse my soul and do something good, and this was the least painful thing I could think of.”

“I see. Later, Vizago. Don’t get in too much trouble.”

Vizago just chuckles, and Ezra does not feel reassured. He shakes his head, turning his back on the Devaronian and heading toward his and Sabine’s speeder. He hops over the side, starts the speeder, and pulls up a map to refresh his memory on how to get back home. He’s only ever been out to this area once or twice and isn’t all that familiar with it. That being said, he could’ve figured out how to get back without the map. He just…needs something to focus his attention on.

It’s a good thing. The school. No, it’s great. It’s great, really. He knows it is. And the fact that the Lothal government is involving him in all these decisions is great, too. But Ezra can’t help the fact that sometimes – only sometimes – he just wants to be left alone, and left out of these matters. He doesn’t want to be on everyone’s quick-call list every time they come across a remnant of the Empire and want to convert it to positive use. More than once he’s referred callers to the local Church of the Force and had congregants pray over a site rather than go visit it himself. At the end of the day, there is only so much he can take anymore. There is only so much of Jedi Ezra Bridger to go around.

As they drive, he taps the fingers of his left hand on the top of the door. The speeder is an open-air model, old, not the most pleasing thing to look at with its dull chassis in need of a paint job and smudged windows, but it’s theirs. They own it. The fresh air feels good after being inside that Imperial facility.

Sabine doesn’t say anything until they’re back inside Capital City and a Chagrian honks at Ezra when he waits too long at a light. Glancing in his mirror, he sees the other driver flick out his forked black tongue in a show of authority. Some bigwig, probably.

“You okay?” Sabine asks. “You’re quiet.”

Ezra lifts one shoulder in a mild shrug. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “No, it’s…you know. Those places.”

“Yeah, I don’t like being in them any more than you do.” She turns her head to look back over her shoulder. “You just missed our turn.”

“Shavit.” He swings the speeder around to another lane to backtrack. The Chagrian honks again.

“Any idea what Vizago was doing there?” Sabine asks. “Can’t have been something altruistic.”

“I doubt it was, but I didn’t get the sense that he was there to do any harm.” Ezra shrugs again, focusing on that thought for a moment. “Maybe he’s changed.”

Sabine scoffs and crosses her arms. “Vizago? _No._ ”

Ezra smiles at her response, and a few minutes later, they’re home. The neighborhood is small, old, out of the way. Their lot has plenty of tree cover and is very private, and the house itself, while tiny, is perfect for them (they really don’t need much). Ryder found it, and he refused to take payment of any kind for it. His people had fixed it up, gotten Sabine and Ezra all they’d needed, and they were good to go.

Walking through the door and putting his keys down on the shelf next to it still haven’t become normal to him, not even a year later. He suspects these things never will. Because he’s not used to that kind of life, and right after he sets his keys down, he pulls his lightsaber out from an inside pocket of his jacket, where it’s been concealed, and lays it next to the keys. He doesn’t wear it out in the open when he’s home. There’s just something about Lothal, about his _home_ , that makes him just want to blend in to the surrounding fabric. Maybe a sense of longing for easier times, if there really ever were any.

“So are you gonna spill,” Sabine says as she drops onto the couch, puts her feet up on the table, and crosses ankles and arms, “or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

Ezra sighs and sits in a chair off to the side of the couch. “It was all of it,” he says. “The Imperial facility, turning it into a school… I just don’t know if there’s ever going to be a time when that part of our lives doesn’t touch us anymore.”

“There won’t be. We’re still fighting it. We have to go back to Chandrila next week for whatever it is Leia wants.”

“Right.” Ezra lowers his head and closes his eyes, massaging his temples and trying not to think too hard about anything or let any one emotion tug him down its path. “Sometimes I wish…sometimes I think about…you and me just leaving, just taking our ship and going somewhere, not looking back…”

“You know we can’t do that.”

The words aren’t meant to be harsh, nor are they meant to be a surprise. Still, they slash at the feeble flicker of hope he sometimes feels when, late at night as he lies awake, he thinks about them running away together, and he feels it almost, _almost_ could happen. But like every morning that comes after those thoughts, so too does reality catch up with him now, and the wish dissolves like smoke in front of him.

“I know,” he says, and he _is_ surprised by how hollow his voice sounds. How quiet. He stands again and heads toward their bedroom at the back of the house. It’s not a long walk, and he has to pass Sabine to get there, so it doesn’t even make sense. It’s like he’s trying to escape, but has nowhere to escape _to_.

“Ezra,” she murmurs from behind him, standing from the couch as he passes. He stops in the open doorway, his back to her, and her hand slides onto his shoulder. His fists clench, briefly, then relax, and he turns back to her.

“I’m happy for the school,” Ezra says. “It’s one of the first things we talked about doing, and I’m happy to see it being done. The students, they’ll… They deserve it, and if it saves even _one_ kid from becoming like me… But…being there…seeing the drawings…seeing the command room turned into the cafeteria and conference rooms and officers’ quarters turned into classrooms and staff offices…” He swallows, his throat tight, trying to hold onto his emotions. “I – ”

“I understand,” Sabine interrupts gently, laying her hand against his cheek – the scarred one. “It’s triggering for you. It brings everything back.”

“I never got to go to school for very long, and an Imperial base still looks like a base no matter how nice or friendly you try to make it or how many cute motivational loth-cat posters you hang up…”

Ezra stops, and Sabine waits, giving him his space, giving him time. Some things can’t ever be fixed. He’s talking to someone, a military trauma specialist, not because he wants to but because Hera wants him to. (Seriously, what could this woman _possibly know_ about how he’s grown up, or the burdens upon him?) Kanan would want him to talk to someone, too, so…he is.

“How am I supposed to teach anyone what I know, when there’s so much I _don’t_ know?” Ezra asks. Looking down and reaching out, he lays his fingertips gently against Sabine’s abdomen. “How am I supposed to be a good father?” he adds so quietly, it’s barely audible.

Sabine covers his hand with hers, and he looks up to see her smiling. “You do the best you can. It’s not all about what you read in books or hear a teacher say. And you have seven more months to learn as much as you can.”

Ezra looks down again, reaching out with the Force and connecting to the teeny presence below his fingers. It’s so small, but so bright and strong already, and he knows it’s Force-sensitive by the way it flinches away from the foreign touch to its mind.

“Try not to worry,” Sabine says. “We’re not alone in this.”

“Yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out again as he places his other hand on her stomach. It’s flat as ever now, but soon, in another month, it’ll start to curve into his palms. Sabine pulls him down for a kiss then, and she turns and pulls him back to the bed. She lies on her back, and he joins her on his side, his fingers brushing along her abdomen.

“I hope he doesn’t ever go through what we went through,” Ezra says. “I hope the galaxy can stay free, and peaceful.”

“It’s not going to be easy, whatever path he chooses,” Sabine says, rubbing her hand along Ezra’s arm. “But he won’t be born in an enslaved galaxy.”

Ezra nudges the bottom of her shirt aside to press a kiss to her bare stomach. Her hand drifts through his hair, and it’s so still and quiet, that he fights the urge to feel paranoid that there is some danger lurking out there, some trap, something about to go wrong. Sabine reaches down and takes his hand.

“We’re safe,” she assures him quietly. “Our son will be safe.”

Ezra closes his eyes and rests his head on her chest. She’s right (she usually is). It’s just going to take time, time that he’ll never have. The New Republic is always going to want something from him, Luke Skywalker is always going to want something from him, Lothal is always going to want something from him. He’s happy with the way things are, but sometimes, he doesn’t know how much more he can give. How much more is _left_ of him to give.

“I love you, Sabine,” he murmurs against her chest. She kisses the top of his head, cradling him, and her touch soothes him, lulling him into comfort and peace.

When he wakes, Sabine is gone and there’s a blanket draped over him. It’s still sunny, a few birds are chirping, and their neighbor Hattie is shouting at the resident stray loth-cats. He’s safe, Lothal is free, and all is right in the world. For a moment, he burrows into the blanket, focusing on the feel of the fabric against his face. It’s Mandalorian, something Sabine brought back from Krownest, and it’s a reminder of the fact that they are _together_. Most days, he still can’t believe it, even though it’s been a year and a half.

Ezra smiles against the blanket, takes a deep breath, and sits up. Then he leaves the bedroom, and he rejoins Sabine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this ’verse, Sabine and Ahsoka found Ezra after 6 months, and they got together pretty quickly after that. Moved into the house after 6 more months and so have been living there a year.


	5. Triggered, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra becomes a father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long time since I’ve updated, and many of you know the reason why. Depending on how this goes, I may start updating my works again. I don’t know. Please don’t criticize my work, friends. I’m doing this because I love it, I love this ship, I love this show, and I love writing for people. Please keep in mind that I am doing this _for free_ , in my _free time_ , and you don’t have to pay a single cent to read it or even leave your house. Please don’t bash it. It hurts. This is not a writers’ group, an MFA program, or a workshop. I have written professionally and queried my original work and done writers’ groups and workshops, so I am used to criticism. However, I am simply not interested in receiving criticism on _fan fiction_. Surely you can all understand that. If you don’t like how it’s done, find another writer to read, or write something yourself.
> 
> All that being said, thank you to those readers who have provided immense support. I appreciate you more than you know. I don’t need to be lauded or adored or whatever, nor am I beyond reproach; I just don’t want to be torn down.
> 
> I know I’m behind on comments. I haven’t been active on AO3 since I deleted “In Sickness and In Health.” I will try to get to comments soon.
> 
> Anyway, Happy Father’s Day. I wrote this specially for today.

The nurse places the tiny bundle in Ezra’s waiting arms.

“Here you go, Dad.”

The newborn has his eyes closed, but his little fists move against his teeny chest, and sweet sounds come from his throat. He looks very grumpy. Sabine watches with a tired smile from the hospital bed, still looking as beautiful as the day Ezra met her. He’s already given the baby his first hair wash, and he smells so good. His hair is dark brown like Sabine’s natural color, though she’s had it in a blue gradient for most of the pregnancy. Blue for boy, and blue for Ezra’s eyes, which she said she hoped the baby would get. Right now, though, a little hat covers his head, and he’s swaddled in a standard hospital blanket.

“He’s so…small,” Ezra observes. The nurse chuckles.

“Well, he had to fit in there somehow,” she says, “and your girlfriend’s not that big.” She pats Ezra’s shoulder. “Let me know if you two need anything.”

The doctor comes in a few minutes later to check on Sabine. “Doing great, honey,” she says to her. Then to Ezra, “Your wife did fantastic. Can’t say I’ve ever delivered a baby from a Mandalorian woman. Toughest woman I’ve ever met.”

“That she is,” Ezra agrees. When the doctor leaves, Ezra focuses on her words. _Your wife._ They’re actually not married yet, not for any particular reason other than they just haven’t gotten around to it. It’s not that they don’t _want_ to; it’s just that other things always seem to come up, and Ezra has wanted to do it right. Ask Sabine the right way, get her the right thing, have the right ceremony.

“You’ve got that smile on your face again,” Sabine says into his musings.

“What smile?” Ezra asks, running his finger down the infant’s soft cheek. He has never felt anything softer.

“You like when people call me your wife.”

Ezra’s smile grows. “I do.” Then he gets up and carries the sleeping infant to Sabine, who eagerly takes him into her arms and nuzzles into him.

“Hi, Caleb,” she coos. “Hi, little boy.”

Ezra cups his hand around the tiny head, which has already instinctively turned into its mother. He catches fleeting glimpses of their son’s life through the Force, and while it’s amazing, it also spikes worry and fear. He’ll have Luke Skywalker to help him, but how is he supposed to train his own child to become a Jedi?

Does he even _want_ him to become a Jedi?

Ezra shakes his head, jostling the thoughts so they go away. He’s only twenty-five, and it just feels so… _young_. Caleb’s little tongue comes out of his mouth, which starts working.

“He’s hungry again,” Sabine says. “We should probably let Hera and the crew in soon. She keeps messaging you.”

“I know,” Ezra says, glancing at his comm. “Suppose we should call your mom as well.”

Sabine rolls her eyes. “Ah yes, need to introduce Countess Ursa to her mixed Mandalorian-Jedi grandchild born out of wedlock. She’ll _love_ that.”

Ezra laughs. “Immaculate conception,” he suggests. “We are definitely not having sex.”

“Definitely not. Though it’s hands off for the next six weeks. Doctor’s orders.”

With another smile, Ezra leans down and kisses Sabine’s forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just here to take care of you and Caleb.”

“You’ll be doing a lot of those Jedi meditations for tiredness when we’re up every two hours feeding him. Especially if he’s got _your_ appetite.”

Ezra brushes his hand back over Sabine’s hair. “Whatever you need. I _will_ miss the belly, though.”

“I was a pretty cute pregnant girl, I agree,” Sabine says, then checks the chrono on the wall. “We can’t really put this off much longer.”

Ezra sighs. “I know. Call her.”

Ursa answers immediately, as if she had been standing by waiting for the call. “Sabine!” she says with a bright smile. “You look wonderful.”

Sabine manages a tired smile of her own. “Thanks, Mother. The doctor said I was the quietest laboring woman she’d ever had the pleasure to help deliver.”

Ursa chuckles. “About what I’d expect from my Sabine. Now let me see my grandson.”

Ezra angles the projector to show the sleeping newborn, and Ursa coos appreciatively.

“He’s lovely,” she says. “He looks exactly like me.”

Ezra disagrees, but doesn’t say anything. Caleb absolutely has his chin, not Ursa’s. Tristan shoves into the frame.

“Lemme see my nephew,” he says, then frowns when he gets a good look. “Is that what they look like when they come out?”

“Manners, Tristan!” Ursa scolds.

“Gods, Tristan,” Sabine says with a roll of her eyes. “You’re an idiot. I’m not letting you near my son.”

Alrich grabs Tristan’s shoulder and moves him out of sight of the viewer. “He’s wonderful, Sabine. We can’t wait to meet him.”

“A true Mandalorian,” Ursa says proudly, which is when Ezra sticks his head in front of the projector.

“ _And_ Jedi,” he says with a smile. “I contributed.”

Ursa’s smile turns into a frown. “Your contribution is noted. I am not ready to talk to you yet, Bridger. You have broken with generations of Mandalorian tradition.”

“Right, because no Mandalorian has ever had premarital sex ever,” he mutters with an eye-roll.

For a moment, Ursa looks scandalized, as if this is new information to her. “I’m not talking about that. Well, not _just_ that.”

“I think Caleb needs a diaper change,” Sabine cuts in. “We’ll talk to you later, Mother. Bye.” She cuts the connection and looks over at Ezra with a sheepish expression. “You know Mom,” she remarks.

But Ezra just smiles. “I do indeed. That went better than I expected, to be honest.”

“You should comm Hera now. She’s got to be about ready to go crazy.”

“Will do.”

He does, and only a few moments later, Zeb’s heavy, lumbering footsteps can be heard coming down the hall. Hera bursts in before him, a giant grin on her face, which turns into a gasp when she sees the baby.

“He’s _beautiful_!” she gushes. “I am so happy for you two.”

“He’s got a smushy face,” Zeb comments, looking a bit confused.

“He just came out of a body,” Sabine replies. “Cut him some slack. I’m sure you didn’t look any better as a newborn Lasat.”

“Wrong. I was _adorable_. My ears were _huge_.”

“Ezra was a super cute baby.”

“What happened?” Zeb asks, before bursting into laughter. Ezra scowls at him, and a nurse comes in to shush Zeb.

Hera breaks in. “When are you going home?”

“Tomorrow,” Sabine answers. “Everything is set up. Thanks for all the help.”

“Of course. I can stay for as long as you need me to.”

“Thanks, Hera. It’ll be a big help.”

“So when does it start doing things?” Zeb asks as he studies the newborn with a frown on his face. “It’s not very interesting.”

“First off,” Sabine says, “ _it_ is a he, and second, human babies don’t do much for months.”

Zeb looks disappointed. “Oh. Well…let me know when he does. Then Uncle Zeb can start teaching him some things.”

Ezra laughs and pats Zeb's giant arm. “Not sure how much we want you teaching our kid, big guy.”

“Better he learns how to pick up girls from me than from you.”

With a grin on his face, Ezra throws Sabine a cheeky wink. “I think I did all right.”

Sabine is starting to doze off, and Hera takes the hint. “We’ll get going,” she says quietly. “Let us know when you get settled at home, and we’ll be over to help.”

“Not me,” Zeb says. “I don’t change diapers.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hera says with a wink of her own. “I’ve already programmed Chopper.”


End file.
